


Here's To Us

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Prompt Fic, Skinny Dipping, Tumblr Prompt, he can't really handle Clarke undressing, rated mostly for Bellamy's thoughts, sort of, who can blame him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Future fic: When they find the sea, Bellamy and Clarke share a moment that starts out silly but turns into something more for both of them.</p><p><strong>Prompt:</strong> saw this post on my dash, and thought it might spark your imagination for an AU one shot -- http://martinlydias.tumblr.com/post/114181987577</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's To Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentrromanoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentrromanoff/gifts).



> What a week *sigh*. Finally got to revisit this prompt, sorry I hung onto it for so long! And thanks for always giving me such great inspiring posts! As usual, AU in a not-so-fucked-up future. Hope you enjoy :)

As most things did, it had started with the moonshine.

He’d stood next to Clarke and said the words without thinking -- “I think we deserve a drink” -- before immediately stilling, silently berating himself while he counted the grains of sand between his toes instead of meeting her quiet gaze. But then Clarke’s hand had slipped into his, fingers intertwining like they’d been doing quite often as of late, and when he finally looked up she was smiling.

“You’re getting the first round,” she answered, and Bellamy swore his cheeks were going to split open with the force of his happiness.

Monty had prepared a special batch in preparation for the journey - or rather, the destination. He’d followed Clarke on their weeks-long trek with the same unerring faith he did everything else. Bellamy had watched him approach her at least once a day with some news or a joke-- something, anything, to give her a moment of distraction. It was what Monty had also done for him in the days after she had left. He didn’t give any reason why; simply did it, just like he refused to leave Jasper’s side even when the other boy would have preferred it. He was a good guy - one of the best. 

Some of the others still kept their distance, but there were a few, a core of them, that had taken nicely to the role of Clarke’s bodyguards after she returned. Her protests were futile, as Bellamy had assured her multiple times. 

It had taken him a while to learn how to be around her again. It was hard not to be a little bit envious - and yeah, irritated - that they’d been stuck back here rebuilding and defending while she was out in the world. But he also noted that she didn’t speak of her travels all that often - in fact, Clarke never volunteered the information unless someone else asked, and then it was in quick bursts, nondescript, giving no hint to her mental state.

He’d later gotten it out of her, during one of their many arguments, that her time away had been just as painful for her as it had been for them. Shame, along with a host of other difficult emotions, had kept her away for longer than she wanted to be.

 _I thought I let you down,_ she'd said. It was after that admission that his own spilled out - her leaving had cut him more deeply than he wanted to believe, confirming that she had taken up a pretty special residence in his life. He didn’t say that second part out loud, but the bracing hug Clarke gave him after that made him think she maybe knew it already.

After that, they had slowly tried to figure out what came next. 

Octavia hadn’t been much help. Not intentionally - but she and Clarke had their own issues, nothing that could be worked out overnight. So he watched them circle each other warily, each approaching him on their own or finding something else to keep busy when the other was in the same room. It was infuriating for Bellamy, because all he could see was what they shared - fierceness, loyalty, passion, principle. He thought maybe, once or twice, he caught them all too casually walking in the same direction, and he hoped it wasn’t his mind playing playing tricks when they reappeared looking at least a bit more comfortable sharing the same space.

At first Clarke mostly fell back into her role as camp healer, trying a little too hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in leading. But Bellamy wasn't about to let her run from that, either. 

So when he saw the stubborn glint in her eyes - and the fear - he pushed her in his own ways. Dropping by the med bay in the evenings to vent his frustrations, maybe sighing a little extra loudly during the half-assed council meetings, rolling his eyes only when she was watching. Clarke always shook her head, a hint of a smile threatening her features, but finally one night while they were on watch, she began a sentence with “I’ve been thinking…” and he had to bite down his smile as she quietly outlined her solution for their latest challenge.

It wasn’t long before her eyes wandered more openly over their half-drawn maps, lingered purposely when they spoke of the latest guard rotations, and soon he was pulling her into the fray, grinning freely when she barely resisted. 

It was easier when they were working together, Bellamy found. Focusing on things like the day’s hunt and the wall’s defenses and preparation for the next cabin was easier than thinking about how her long hair tickled his cheek when she leaned over his shoulder or how the first time he saw her smile again made him realize what a rare sight it was.

So when she haltingly suggested going to the ocean - almost as an offering - he only saw how much she wanted to share in something again, and he’d said yes even despite the fact that they had other things to be doing.

Their group wasn’t very large - many had remained back at camp to continue work. He was fine with that. Less people meant less grumbling, as far as he was concerned. And the grumbling did happen anyways, as the days stretched into a week, and then more, even though Clarke had said it would.

But he’d watched her eyes glint knowingly as the air turned salty, as everyone’s pace began to hasten, and when they finally did reach the sea, she stood back while the others jumped in and splashed around with a glee he was happy to find they hadn’t forgotten. He remained back with her, because hell if he was going to let her be alone, no matter what she wanted to think. And of course she couldn’t stand that he wasn’t taking part, to which he only replied she would have to make him.

Childish, but effective-- ultimately it had been her who put aside his rifle, her who grasped his elbow, her who dragged him under the waves until they were both soaked to the skin and breathless with laughter.

Now they were here, having long since dried out. Clarke’s head lay on his pack, her legs stretched out on the sand, while Bellamy sat cross-legged beside her. It was just the two of them left, after hours of drinking had long resulted in the others retiring to their tents. But Clarke had continued, and so had he, not wanting the night to end just yet.

Something about the moment, this day, had given him a new ray of hope. _Sure, big brother,_ Octavia's voice sounded skeptically in his head, _blame it on the ocean._

“We should stay up until sunrise,” Clarke declared suddenly, and he grinned into his drink.

“Whatever you say, Clarke.”

“I promise it’s worthwhile.” The cup dangled in her hand as she gestured. “When the sun comes up over that horizon, the sky… it’s like a painting, Bell. I’ve never seen a thing like it.”

He tilted his head, feeling a sly grin tug at his mouth. “Bell?”

“Hmm?” She looked up through her lashes, retracing the words in her head. Her cheeks pinked. “Oh. Sorry. Slip of the tongue, I guess.”

Bellamy downed the rest of his cup, though no alcohol would warm him as much as the sight of Clarke Griffin blushing. 

“Don’t be sorry.”

She smiled, almost shy. Deciding to let her off the hook, he tapped her knee. “So I take it you saw the sunrise here already?”

She nodded. “Only once. After that I knew it was something I wanted to show to y- to everyone.” Another slip, one that made a bubble of joy burst in his heart, but he didn’t call her on it. “Besides, isn’t that what people do for fun? Stay up all night?”

“Oh so now you want to have fun?”

“Hey! I can be fun.”

He merely grinned. Clarke’s face took on an expression he’d never seen before, lashes lowered almost coyly, lips quirking upwards. “Don’t you think I’m fun?”

“Depends what your definition of fun is, princess.”

Clarke made a tiny noise of outrage, sitting up just to push at his shoulders. He chuckled, easily grabbing her wrists. “I can be fun,” she muttered again. Then her eyes lit up. “Aha! I know!” Tossing back the rest of her drink, she stood on wobbly legs. Bellamy was up in an instant, hands resting on her arms until she was steady.

“Come on.” She took his hand and marched them towards the water.

“Clarke, what--”

“We’re going to have fun,” she said definitively, stopping right where the waves lazily lapped at their feet.

“Oh yeah?”

Clarke stripped off her shirt in answer, tossing it to the sand. Bellamy’s jaw dropped. _Holy god._

He was frozen to the spot, all his muscles having locked up the instant Clarke’s fingers had curled into the hem of her shirt. She stood there smirking at his expression, clearly pleased with herself. Still, he didn’t miss how the flush in her cheeks now made an appearance on the newly revealed skin. He was a fan. Such a fan.

It was a massive effort not to let his eyes drop downwards after the first unexpected peek. But she seemed unconcerned - possibly even oblivious - to his internal battle. 

“We’re going to go skinnydipping,” she announced, and _fuck, I’m a dead man I’m so so dead--_

“I- uh-” Helpless, he swallowed several times to get moisture back into his mouth. Clarke had her hands on her hips, not protecting her chest a single bit, and okay, he was only human after all. The perfect globes of her breasts were spilling out of the dark bra that was obviously too small to contain them. He wondered what would happen if his hands replaced the material, how the soft flesh would fit in his palms, what kind of sound she’d make if his lips joined his fingers… but he also wondered if he brushed the strap off her shoulder he’d see a red line where it had cut into her skin.

“Does it hurt?” he asked stupidly.

Clarke blinked, taken aback. “I-- what?”

“Your… um…” he motioned vaguely to the area of her torso, his eyes blatantly focused on a point past her shoulder. “It just looks… tight.” He winced. _Smooth, man._

She only seemed amused, though. “Standard Ark issue,” she said with a shrug. Her breasts moved with the motion, and he had to bite his cheek to stop the groan from emerging. “Grounders showed me a breast binding, but it got too complex to keep taking on and off every day…”

Now he was thinking about her taking things _off_ and no no no, more stuff didn’t need to come _off_ , not now, not ever.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, Clarke unbuttoned her jeans, eyebrows lifted in challenge. “You going to go in fully clothed, Blake?”

“I…”

Any words he might have formed were lost when she wiggled out of her pants, kicking them aside. Those long, creamy legs called to him, fairly begged to be spread so he could feel her, taste her, listen to her moan as she wrapped them around him--

Bellamy drew a hand over his face and turned around. _This is it. This is how I die._

Clarke’s laughter tinkled in the air. “Who would have thought you were such a prude?”

“I’m not a prude,” he retorted. “It’s called being a gentleman.”

There was a full minute of silence, and then she said, “Well. I can’t argue with that.” 

The words brought a smile to his face despite everything. Then something soft hit the back of his head, and he looked down to see Clarke’s socks lying by his feet. “You’re up,” she ordered. He could just tell she was crossing her arms under her breasts, probably pushing them up invitingly--

“I don’t think-”

“You know for someone who’s always telling everyone else to stop thinking, you sure do a lot of it yourself.”

She giggled again, and it nearly broke him. He wanted to give in so badly. In part because he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her this carefree again; if this was all he got, he damn well wanted to prolong it. Maybe there was a way without completely losing his mind. 

“Okay,” he said after a minute. “I’ll play on one condition.” He kept his back turned. 

“Name it.”

“You keep the rest of your clothes on. I’ll keep my briefs on. And you go in first. Like, now. Deal?”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Clarke replied. Before he could begin to process that, a splash sounded behind him. He turned around, a hand over his eyes, until Clarke’s cheer made him peek through his fingers. The water covered her nearly to her shoulders, and as long as she didn’t rise or get too close he thought maybe he could manage. 

_God, it better be cold. Fucking freezing._

“You’re up,” she called, eyebrows wiggling.

Her good mood was infectious, and he found himself grinning as he yanked off his shirt, hopping around to shuck his trousers in record time. When he looked back up, Clarke’s gaze was stuck to him, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Bellamy never thought she’d look at him that way; like _he_ was the prize… he had also underestimated how much he’d like it. With a hard gulp, he dove in.

It was cold enough to do the trick. When he surfaced, he made his way over to her in a few long strokes, stopping a few feet from where she bobbed up and down.

“Told you I was fun,” she said smugly. 

“Never thought you’d describe hypothermia as fun,” he laughed, splashing her a little. Clarke let out a little yip and splashed him right back. He closed his eyes automatically in the spray. When he looked up again, she was even closer, her blonde tresses floating out behind her in the water.

“It’ll take more than this to give us hypothermia, trust me.”

“Doc knows best,” he replied with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, shifting to float on her back, arms spread out to her sides. “I wonder what it’s like to live in the ocean. Can you imagine that? An entire existence, underwater.”

Bellamy considered it, watching her face. “I suppose it’s not that different from being on the Ark, is it?” He said eventually. “Confined to a single environment, unable to go anywhere else.”

“Hmm.” Clarke pursed her lips, brow creasing. “I never thought of it like that.”

“Yeah, well, you know I have a unique perspective.”

She still looked thoughtful, so he let her be, treading water and letting the waves crest gently at his neck and shoulders. It wasn’t horribly cold, thankfully, or maybe that was just his body adapting. Whatever it was, he was awfully comfortable submerging himself in the sea at the moment. Between the stillness of the night and the calmness of the ocean, he felt himself begin to loosen a little, limb by limb, as if the water was leeching the tension directly from his skin. He didn’t realize he’d sighed out loud until Clarke’s soft chuckle reached his ears.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” She was smiling. “It’s nice,” she repeated. “Peaceful.”

“I can finally hear myself think,” he agreed, and she nodded, pleased.

Then she stopped floating, inching closer again, and he had to fight to keep his hands by his sides when she bumped him. Her smooth skin touching his in so many places was almost too much to take without actually doing something about it. She didn't make any move to get closer; nor did she try to push back. She just remained there, treading water close enough that he could have traced the birthmark above her lip, run his tongue along the shell of her ear, pausing at the small jagged tip where the skin had healed after being sliced clean through by an eager Grounder. He could still remember the way the anger had flared in him, strong and burning, until she'd put a hand on his chest and steadied him with just her presence.

Bellamy shifted a little, his hand landing on her waist for the briefest second as he moved. He almost thought she was unaffected by their proximity, until he dipped his head a little and caught sight of her expression. 

She was staring down where his hand had been. There was a deep longing in her gaze. Not so much for anything sexual, but for intimacy. Suddenly he had flashes of her back at camp - always alone in the med bay, a solitary figure on watch; even during a conversation, she'd be standing a few feet away from the nearest person. The closest contact he’d seen was between her and a patient, and that was only because they needed to be restrained. 

Bellamy wondered how long it had been since she’d been held, really held and touched by someone who truly saw her.

Tentatively, he raised his arm. Clarke’s eyes snapped to the motion, then darted up to his. He held her gaze, refusing to let either of them run from the moment. She swallowed, clearly conflicted. Silently, he willed her not to be scared; to trust him, like she kept saying she did. Her eyes searched his. He waited. 

It felt like an eternity, but finally Clarke drifted to the right, curling herself under his arm. She slid her other hand around his back, anchoring him just as close. Her cheek came to rest on his shoulder. Bellamy let out a relieved breath against her hair, his grip tightening. 

As the minutes wore on, Clarke melted further into his hold. A glance downwards showed her eyes closed, lips parted ever so slightly. He could tell she wasn’t asleep - just at peace. So he let his hand trail along her spine, rubbed circles between her shoulders, smiling at her wordless murmur. She wasn’t entirely idle either. Occasionally she’d bury her nose in the hollow of his neck, as if trying to inhale him, and now and then her fingers traced up his abdomen, pausing to caress the raised welts and scars over his skin, lingering over the ones she hadn't been around to stitch together, almost in apology. Her lips were a brand on his skin, more dizzying than any alcohol.

It was all a bit overwhelming, and he had to stop and close his eyes several times, just concentrating on the feel of her soft frame folded against his own, and committing every small detail to memory so that he didn’t ruin everything by thinking about what came next. It did sort of reassure him that she seemed to have stopped thinking for the moment too.

~~~~~~~~~

When the wind picked up and the water began to churn, they took that as their cue to drag themselves ashore. Clarke began to shiver almost instantly. Bellamy grabbed his jacket from where it was balled up in his pack, draping it over her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, fingers closing over his briefly. He smiled and rubbed her arms.

“You can wear my shirt, until your stuff dries. It’ll be long enough to cover you.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Go on, take it.” When she still didn’t take it from his outstretched hand, he sighed exaggeratedly and threw it at her, laughing when she squeaked and fumbled to catch it. He turned his back as she changed out of her underthings, going over every childhood myth he could think of in order to distract himself. 

Clarke gave a hesitant tap to his shoulder when she was done. He pulled on his pants quickly, leaving his things to dry with hers as he settled down by the fire. She’d draped his jacket over her lap, her damp hair spilling over her shoulders, curling in the heat from their small fire. For a moment Bellamy let himself stare, quite taken by the sight of her in his clothing. 

“So,” Clarke said meekly, “that wasn’t exactly what I intended.” Before he could begin to panic, she smiled fondly. “But thank you.”

He smiled back, grasping her knee briefly.

“I promise next time it’ll be real fun, though,” she insisted.

Bellamy shook his head, throwing another stick on the flames. “You know, I meant it earlier, when I said it depends on your definition of fun.” He held up a hand as her mouth opened. “Hear me out. What I’m saying is, for me, being with you is the fun, Clarke. We don’t have to be doing anything. It’s just nice to have you back.”

Her features softened, eyes taking on a sheen that he pretended was a trick of the firelight. Then she shifted closer, smiling.

“I missed you too, Bellamy.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

He grinned at her little shove. “I’m not,” she said. “Really. I… I always knew I would.” He must have stared at her for too long, because her sheepish smile became a blush as she looked to her lap. “But I couldn’t- I still-”

“I know.” Bellamy placed his hand over hers on the sand, squeezing lightly. There was no need to revisit that again. Not tonight, at least. “You came back, though. That means something, Clarke.”

She nodded rather hard, as if trying to convince herself. Then she lifted her gaze to his, all steely-eyed blue determination that made him love her even more. 

“I’m going to make it count this time. I’m staying, and I’m going to help, even if half the camp doesn’t want me to.”

He smiled widely, lacing their fingers together. “You just tell me which half, and I’ll take care of the rest,” he promised.

Her answering grin was nothing short of dazzling.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the morning dawned, Clarke poured the last of Monty’s moonshine into two cups, handing one to Bellamy. He watched the sky lighten inch by inch, watched the burning gold globe slowly begin to peek over the water. Dusky pinks and golds shooed away the darkness, colors streaking across the sky and reflecting off the clear sea, making the waves glimmer and shine. It was like something out of a dream.

A tap to his jaw made him look to Clarke, closing his mouth in the process. She beamed happily, and raised her cup. 

“Here’s to us, Bellamy.”

Impulsively, he leaned over to kiss her cheek. It was the briefest peck, honestly he wasn’t even sure if it counted until he saw her face-- _it totally counted._ Now it was Clarke's turn to be stunned, lips parting in a small _o,_ throat bobbing uncertainly. 

Bellamy smiled at the girl beside him, his heart flailing a little bit when she smiled back, more radiant than the sun would ever be. He shifted so they sat shoulder to shoulder, and knocked his cup against hers.

“Here’s to us.”


End file.
